The Unplanned Laphing 

It was not our summer vacation, but a trip that had been in chats for a long time. It’s one thing going with your family and a better thing to go without them (exempting the fact that you must act like an adult). But this thought was soon ruined when the group of five girls, were faced with the struggles of not being a princess.

Now a few facts about female travel- It’s a ruckus. From taking permission from your parents to actually traveling alone in India, you feel terrorized, alone, and anxious all the time. Especially when your parents have listened to a billion cases of rape, harassment, and snatching. But my parents have always motivated me to go out, provided there must be a man “to protect me”. The case is always different when it comes to my brother, he just needs to inform my parents that he is leaving and the rest is taken care of. I have always wondered- Do we as a society fail to empower women, or are women actually under threat 24*7?

It took a huge range of disputes to travel from Goa back to the hills near Delhi, but after careful consideration- Mussorie was decided. We changed our mode of transportation from bus to train, adhering to the concerns of our parents. We booked tickets from different parts of India but the aim was one- We needed an escape. After a night stay at our friend’s house and not sleeping the whole night, we took our compartment-sized bags and started the journey towards the station. Now like any other, group, we had two main goals- To find an escape and to party.

We seemed to have found solace as we stepped into the train station and the next thing on the agenda was smoking. Like any other day of smoking in Delhi, we were ready to be stared at but not ready for the fine we would have to give if caught smoking at the station.

The railway station- a place no less than the representation of the whole essence of India. It has people who break laws, make laws, and amend them according to their own wishes. On the right, I saw a snack shop that was calling me with an old and overprized sandwich, and on my left I could feel the rotten smell of railway toilets making its way to the sandwiches. I moved my eyes and saw a person having gutka, one rolling a joint, but no one was smoking. Being a woman, and that to a woman in India, I took the heads up and went straight to our seats.

We struggled, laughed, relaxed, and in the end reached our Zostel (A hostel for wanderers and to make new friends). We kept our luggage and were deciding on what to do first, go for a walk, eat, or relax. So, we chose to smoke a cigarette. We were greeted by the Zostel host who told us about a group tour that was going to the Dalai Hills. We were interested, but there were two genuine problems- Most of us did not have any riding experience in the mountains, and it would be impossible for a group of five girls to get ready within half an hour and with just one washroom. So, we passed the tour and smoked instead.

After resting and taking a billion pictures, we decided to go to Landour Bakery. One of the top-notch places to visit in Mussoorie. It is known for being the home to one of the greatest writers- Ruskin Bond and for selling overpriced maggies. Less money, no transportation, and five unfit females did not make a good combination. “We should keep walking and see where we go”- Never trust a person who says this because they would make you trek the most beautiful and exotic uphill hike. But we did trust her, so we started our hike. After 5 minutes, we saw a group of cab drivers and were ready to pay them anything to be taken up without any walks. But my friend kept on saying- We should keep walking and see where we go. So, we did. It was already half-past soon and the landscape had started changing its shape with the rising altitude. With fewer shops, more mountains, and semi-covering black clouds, it felt like I was regaining my sanity.

 After twenty minutes of struggle and zero breath, we finally asked a cab driver. Taking inspiration from Sarojini Nagar and our inner Delhites we bargained. “No problem bhaiya, we will go on our own.” I said triggering the male ego of the driver and he said- “Haa jao jao madam, hum bhi dekhte hai.” This male ego was enough to unite us back and make us walk 10 Kilometers straight uphill.

We struggled, cried, smoked, watched some of the most beautiful sceneries, and reached Lal Tibba, which served as the first checkpoint for reaching Landour Bakery and even the last for us. It’s a small town at an altitude that has small 4- 5 shops selling the same food items and one exciting pub kinda restaurant. The only difference between these shops was how well the shopkeepers were talking to you. After resting our breathless lungs, the first thing to do was eat. We ordered momos, maggie, and coffee. “Aye, have you guys tried Laphing?” I asked this question and all my friends were just curious to eat it. Provided I asked that question because I saw a cute café on the way to our dreading quest. I tried my first Laphing in Delhi in a small place called Majnu Ka Tila. I went there for the first time with my overly excited Mom who had made a list of things to try and made me try this. It was cold, extremely spicy, but finger-licking good.

When it started getting darker, like any other female in India, we started our drive back from a less populated and lonely place back to Mall Road- a place essentially made to fool tourists where you find expensive pieces that are traded from Delhi just to be sold to us at higher costs. But the only thought I had was to have a plate of Laphing. I managed to interest everyone in that plate and we stopped. Unfortunately, it was a Dog’s café. Now a fact about me, I don’t hate animals, but I am just scared to admit I get scared. Two of my friends started petting the owner’s dog.

I am not the type who asks people to wash their hands after touching a dog, but I am also not the one who pets dogs, so I focused on Laphing. Small yellow-colored rolls, filled with wai-wai noodles and a mixture of other spicy ingredients which made me question why I was actually missing this from in Bangalore. We ordered two plates over a chit-chatty session with the host and finished it in no time. They all thanked me for the Laphing and hated me for just ordering two plates. But it was getting darker, and so it was time to reach back.

We climbed back to the Mall road, exchanged a few puffs of vape, and waited in line to get our Domino's order. Now our goals had changed- get back to Zostel, eat, smoke, and drink. So, we did exactly that and woke up the next morning with a hangover. The next day was about going to Dalai Hills, the part of the trek some of us dreaded the most.

Five girls, hungover, with gifts, stomachs all full, and one diary?? start their trek to a hike (yet again). But this time the trek was much more populated and smaller. “Bhai, Laphing”- said all of us together looking at a woman, but we were already full that an additional layer of food would end us all in the washroom. Yet again, our ego was challenged by a shopkeeper who asked us to wait till the rain stopped, but we continued the trek, to see “The Dalai Hills”. An epitome of beauty at a peak, enclosed with mountains, a chilly breeze, and some tourists all around. It was the right place for me to sit, smoke a cigarette, and talk about art. So, I sat with one of my friends who was done taking a lot of pictures and we discussed the random thoughts of looking at two mountains and the broken houses built on them.

Submerged between the mountains, craving for art, we all got a realization of being grown up and coming on trips without our parents. Life as a woman is already very hard, I feel with the number of restrictions imposed fairly from our parents. Their scare and worries are justified, but what is not really justified is the freedom that is snatched from us. Looking to at the views and free clouds shining under the sunlight made me envy them. So, I took the time to open my notebook, write, and sketch something for memory. The chilly breeze felt like peace, the peace I get after eating biryani and listening to my favorite track.

"It looks like a pathway."

“It looks like your conscious and subconscious mind.” And the discussions went along. Until, it was time to grab a tea, maggie, and go back from where we started. We roamed a bit on the Mall Road, this time taking a newer route, and saw the same Laphing shop. It took no time for us to take two plates of Laphing again and enjoy it with the rain. At this point, Laphing became our sixth member of the trip. We are independent girls but we need to get back on time. So, we boarded our train back to Delhi, with the thought of getting back from our escape. But aren’t escapes meant to take you back to reality?

None of us wanted to hear the answer to that. We got anxious, fought a little, smoked a lot, said goodbyes, and transported back to reality.

 

 Homecoming?

Refuging from Unsolicited India to India

“We have to go to the other side.” A phrase that can change your life. What would you choose? You might take a second and absorb what is really happening. But this is not what my great-grandmother did. She took everything she could, leaving all her jewelry and livelong’s savings behind, and started her journey to the “other side” with three kids.

On her way from unsolicited India (now known as Pakistan) to India, she had no food, no money, and no security. Two of her kids lost their lives on the way to finding a new home, but her only hope was to protect her third kid. All this happened as early as 1947 and even before when the talks of partition and the consequences had already started to show. I reconnected with all these stories through my grandparents and great-grandparents. I have no idea how much truth lies behind this journey, but who would even know how much is true when you are subjected to the atrocities of Partition?

Why did this partition happen? Would the refugees get a place to stay? Will this ever end? Or is it going to get worse? All these questions had different answers: the Indian answer, the Pakistani answer, the British answer. But nobody had the answer that would suffice the realities of life then.

My family and the thousand other families who were serious subject to these problems had their own answers. Their problems did end for a bit but, the repercussions never stopped. 

The human mind works in two different directions that is truth or false, and distinguishes between these processes by engaging multiple cognitive processes and brain regions. The prefrontal cortex helps with reasoning and judgment, while the hippocampus recalls relevant memories to check facts. The anterior cingulate cortex detects contradictions or inconsistencies, signaling potential errors, and the amygdala processes emotional responses, which can provide instinctive clues when something feels wrong. These areas work to assess information and recognize falsehoods critically.

But when you are exposed to a varied range of trauma or sequential bad experiences, your brain fails to understand what’s true or not. It creates no distinction between factual and non-factual parts, and we as humans, care the least. We were busy taking sides of which side of the partition to pick and whether our religion and race would get a place. This is what happened to my grandmother’s father who like millions, lost a knowledge of what was true or false. He left his land in Pakistan by burying all his jewelry in the soil. When he came to India after 1947 and settled down, he went back to Pakistan after a few years with his friend to look for their buried gold. Pakistan, a country he did not know though he had known it when it was not Pakistan. Reaching a place, you called home but seeing a billion other families budding there, he knew he did not just go there for the gold but also for the satisfaction of being back home. His friend got his jewelry but when he reached there, he realized the memory of where he left his gold had faded away. He saw houses built on his own land and failed to clearly distinguish between what was true and false. Then, a policeman came and got his friend his gold back, but my grandmother’s father was completely lost.

Imagine living in a place that is not really your home but you are forced to call it home to start a new life altogether. With no hope my great-grandparents, had to start a life in India. They had no start, no vision, but just one aim- survival.

They first settled in Kurk where they were given shelter in refugee tents, then traveled to Rohtak, then to Samhalka, and after being unemployed for days, came to Delhi in search of work. People then and even now, call us refugees. But we identify ourselves as fighters- who dared to survive one of the biggest revolutions in the world.

But this was just not it. What started as a bare announcement as news- Dusri tarah jana hai, soon became a place for terror. The Indian subcontinent became a place for war. Over the night, civilized citizens turned into demented killers and killers turned into rapists. This gave rise to a communal war. If a hundred men were reported killed by one community, the other community made sure that it doubled the score. There were no holds barred on what was and what was wrong. No one was spared. Children, women, and even the old had to face the repercussions of this set fire. This was just the start of the communal wars that were to begin. It was not just India or Pakistan anymore. It was Hindu, Muslims, Punjabis, Gujaratis, Marwaris, Kashmiris, and many other religions that turned back against each other.

The lifestyle, economy, and culture faced a huge pushback. The development under British rule was ruined by this partition. A war between Hindu and Muslim- it just started with this but ended up consuming every part of the society including Sikhs, Rajputs, Sindhis, Punjabis, and many more.

And if you ask me today, whether these repercussions ended or not, my answer would be no. We are subjected to “partitioned products”, “Pakistanis”, and even “half Indians”. And to be honest, my family has not yet figured out what to call themselves as well. Even after staying in India for over 70 years, and having a well-established business, we have not been able to call this place our home.

Whenever as an adult I have an ancestral discussion with my friends and hear them bragging about their grandparents having their roots in Delhi and India since the very start, I realize how my family must have felt. They are Indians who are still called immigrants. And how can one accept or call a space home that hasn’t even accepted them properly?

The trauma of resettling and starting your life all over again is something that the decision-makers of partition forgot to think of properly. My grandparents would still shed tears while recollecting memories of partition war and their pain would scream through their eyes. After some time, ‘refugee’ was not just a term for us, but a word that casts all our emotions. The minds of people stopped understanding what’s true and what’s false and there was just one feeling that left unsaid- Is it homecoming?

There, behind barbed wire, on one side, lay India, and behind more barbed wire, on the other side, lay Pakistan. In between, on a bit of earth, which had no name, we laid- fighters.

This was my story, what's yours?

Write to me at poorvik35@gmail.com

A Photo Walk through the City of Widows

Finding Solace in God

 She wants to be a boss woman, and balance everything but how often does the world of discrimination let her do that? She is subjected to discrimination and labels, quite frequently. Women- a not-so-debatable topic, but her rights and freedom are often questioned more. But why do women have to face these stereotypes? Are they responsible for being visibly invisible or do we as a society fail to acknowledge them?

Fazal Sheikh’s photographic series, Moksha, takes us through the lanes of widowhood in Vrindavan. His photographs are deeply linked to how women are seen after the loss of their husbands. Vrindavan- the city of Widows and spirituality holds home to more than 20,000 widows The widows here deeply feel that only submission to God can help them get Moksha, or liberation from the endless cycle of life and death. 

When I saw the photographs for the first time, I felt disconnected from what was being shown. Set against the sullied dull white walls, these photographs made my mood slightly grey. It felt like the photographs of some women hiding their identities under a shawl. They were running away from the glimpses of the world under the cover provided to them by society. But as you read about the photographs, you realize that it's just not a coverup of their identity but a metaphor for protecting them from the outside world in the name of God.

The colors, background, and atmosphere of these photographs are a true representation of what Widows in Vrindavan looks like. Their names are covered under the name of God and their identities are overshadowed by the dullness of Indian society. The Moksha series aka liberation, becomes the true mission of these women because they have been told from the start that life is nothing without their better half. The colors and contrast portrayed in this series are the shades of white and the hues of grey depicting how life shifts from colorful glory towards white and they end up adjusting to a new space and turning grey.

The artist, Fazal Sheikh ties who different sides of the widowhood of Vrindavan. Number one, the one that looks into the camera but is covered and handicapped enough to make a choice, and the other that has agreed upon that this is going to be her life. What I saw here at first, was just two people covered in shawls but later I noticed the drape of every drop of the silhouette and how it falls on the shoulders of the widows, covers their faces with nothing to observe, and melts well with their body posture. The artist tries to represent the true identities of these widows with their way of living and succeeds in doing so. When I observed these photographs long enough, I could feel these women respecting their quietness and choosing to willfully step away from societal norms.

Widows who come to Vrindavan voluntarily or involuntarily, come under the assumption that Lord Krishna will take care of them and alleviate their sorrows. Their identities and personalities are made to believe that life with a man is only complete and without a man can only be complete when God steps in. But in reality, widows are seen as a threat to the caste hierarchy and their sexual union with another man could potentially pollute their race and name. Why would otherwise the union of a man be highly promoted but that of a woman be called a form of pollution? Or the surplus of women is a potential cause of threat and added liability.

Women, work, and wealth- 3 W’s that are often judged in Indian society. And if they are bought together, they might still require digene for digestion. Women who were already under the microscope of a failed society when raised their voices to become equal in wealth and work were pushed back with one medium or the other. This is not just the problem of a failed society but also of failed laws that govern women. Hierarchy is seen through the lens of a man, so ultimately when the point for the distribution of power and justice comes it is automatically descended to a man than a woman.

With ⁠around 15-20 thousand windows chanting and praying to God, Vrindavan also provides a home to the widows who their own families have pushed out. They can be seen leading a basic life as guided by their Gurus, family, and friends, with the aspiration that they will have dignity when they shift to Vrindavan. The age group of these women varies in a range, from early 20’s to early 80’s, there are some who are even underage and pushed here.

According to their status, they would either rent a space, live in an ashram, or on the roads. They are allotted a small space, bed, and a cupboard to hold the baggage of their past. With zero to almost no contact with their past, they come here to relive their lives in white sarees (a predefined color for widowhood). They form bonds with fellow widows and are submerged under the vision of one spiritual God. They are aging women; having spent the prime of their lives in the roles of wife, daughter-in-law, and mothers which mostly entailed submitting their lives to something else. It was considered a part of their duty as a good Hindu woman. Poverty, old age, and its associated malnourishment wore out the widows over several years, but there has been no opinion or vision for them. The contrast between blacks and greys in the photograph highlights the true conditions of these widows.

A woman is seen as complete only under the guardianship of a male- a brother, husband, or father. And this dictates her life. From being told, “tum to paraye ghar ki ho jaoge” to “byah hogaya tumhara?”, a woman has always been seen as a subject to burden. Even when they get married, they are held responsible for the well-being of their husbands. Then, comes the traditions like Karwa Chauth that put forward a similar notion that a wife is responsible for her husband’s well-being. Some people say that it promotes gender roles and is regressive, while some feel it's about dedication, love, and strength. When I asked my mother, why she keeps a no-water fast for my father, she replied, “It’s an old tradition. If it makes my family happy and gives your father a little more life, I will keep it”. When I counter-argued- Then, why does Papa not keep it, she hesitated and said, “Only women keep it.” This mindset of putting everything on a woman’s shoulder is not what we were told recently but has been in the books for a long time. Then, comes additional duties of women, taking care of their family, and what happens to them after death.

This is linked directly to the lineage of God and how women have always been perceived as a subject to injustice, inequality, and liability. The goddess Sati, also known as Dakshayani, is directly associated with the concept of sati. When her father insulted Lord Shiva, Sati immolated herself in protest, which is often seen as a symbolic origin of the practice of Sati. Even Goddess Renuka was accused of infidelity by society after the loss of her husband. What happens to a woman when her spouse dies is still a matter of debate, giving rise to customs like Sati and Widowhood.

Sati started in the early centuries and became prevalent during the 10^th and 12^th centuries. Its main belief is- a widow should immolate herself on her husband’s funeral pyre. This practice can be traced back to Bengal, as a measure for the warrior and royal classes to prevent widows from being captured and abused by invaders. But soon this custom became popular all over India as a practice where hundreds of women would throw themselves into fires just to pay homage to their dying husbands.  Although, now it's just a form of patriarchy that has been banned. But does this series of women proving themselves right, stop here? The answer is- No. It only starts there and then comes another practice called Niyoga where a childless widow is married to a close relative of her husband to ensure that the family line continues and the wife is provided with social and economic security. This brings us back to the point that women are seen as invisible and incompetent without a man.

All these practices raise answers to common practice- Widowhood and how it is seen as a complex and deeply intertwined social complexity in the Indian content. The history of widowhood in India is complex and deeply intertwined with the society's social, cultural, and religious fabric. The treatment of widows has evolved significantly over the centuries, influenced by religious texts, societal norms, and colonial as well as post-colonial reforms. The practice of sati, while related, represents a specific and extreme aspect of widowhood.

Fazal’s photos are a shred of evidence of how women are still subjected to a life where they are seen as a threat and have to live under restrictions. Their mindset has been built in a way that they find solace in the lies built by the people for God. But is it wrong to find solace in something? Fazal’s photos also portray one thing which is the quietness and peace of finding solace in something. Vrindavan which survives on two things- temples and widows, continues to remain the place of rest for people and widows throughout the Globe. But when and where in this society will a woman actually find her solace?

For more such stories, subscribe to this blog!

Thank you for reading, write to me at @poorvik35@gmail.com

The Menu Card

Same location. Same order. Same song. But— different people.

What was different this time?

Five years apart- they met again, after the blast, in the prowess of illusions, destruction, and tranquility.

18^th June 2001, Café Flora was bustling with couples serving each other a little bit of shyness and food, and families serving smiles and waves of laughter. The baby pink walls made the place welcoming for more connections, and the ambient brown furniture paved the way for families and their chattery disputes. The khis-khis of the chairs, tak-tak of the cutlery, and ringing of the ready orders served a fine aesthetic for this busy café… Until a few things were about to change forever. 

Pihu pushed the door and entered the café after struggling with confusion to push or pull. She was wearing a light pink button-down shirt with denim mom jeans and a white top inside, that socially showed a bit of her cleavage. She looked for a seat in the busy café- That one… Oh no! Kids are there. Or should I sit on the right, but there is already a couple there? She had a small session of contemplation with herself before choosing a seat in the extreme corner behind the cooler, on a patio. She figured out that the date was more important to her than beating the heat in Delhi’s melting temperature.

Hi, are you Pihu? She tilted her head to confirm if it was the same person and skeptically asked- Hi…. Ramit?

Hey, sorry for keeping you waiting. I got stuck in a little traffic. Pihu got up from her chair to awkwardly say hi to Ramit and sat back. Both of them looked at each other and then at the waiter. They were about to order a menu card when the final beep rang and the café’s kitchen blasted. Fortunately, most of the lives were saved but unfortunately, the baby pink walls and the antique furniture lost their charm to the blast. When the fire extinguishers came to check on the casualties, they found a couple unconscious on the patio and took them to the hospital. Unfortunately, the couple did not have a menu card on their table but a piece of pink shirt that helped recognize them.

Five years passed, Café Flora changed to Café Da Flora, the baby pink walls turned to hues of orange, and the furniture was replaced by cozy sofas. The café was hustling and bustling like any other day and two people were sitting right opposite to each other on the patio away from the air conditioner. Both of them raised their hands to order a menu card, looked at each other in a lost déjà vu of the same song, got up, and left the Café Da Flora.

 

Creating “Home” in a New City

What’s the startup pack for creating a place called “home” in a new city?

• Creating a comforting place
• Searching nostalgia
• Looking for a food that smells like home

But how do you find these things in a place that is the hub for technology and people running from one place to another? That was my concern when I entered the City of Dreams. While keeping my baggage in the cab, a thought came into my head. But the fear of the “new city” kept me controlled. 

While zoning out into the array of songs, I missed most of Bangalore’s traffic. But as soon as I entered the campus, I was greeted with people dolled up for celebrations. I looked at them, then stared back at me and found I was too underdressed for this place. 

Alliance seemed like a massive land with new faces where I kept searching for acquaintances. After managing to get angry on the very first day, I ate some food and met the people who helped me create my comfort place. 

After the hectic settling-in, a new week started off, with classes that felt like a whole new world for me. Being taught everything that I wanted to learn from my undergrad was one of the best feelings. With assignments and class discussions, this feeling passed away a few times but regained when I thought about the ultimate goal. 

While my search for nostalgia was ending with the thought that I would not find someone who loves Delhi as much as I do, I found people who made me nostalgic. Whether it be the songs or the “vibe” we created, it felt like a part of my life at home came back again. My search for home-cooked food has been made better with the smiles at Nescafe. Although there have been ups and downs in this journey, I come back every day to this place called Ghar. 

Every Beginning is Not a New One

 Beginnings are NOTHING NEW! 

You get into the new year with a spirit to start something new, but what happened to the beginning you started the previous year or the year before that? Beginnings are not always about a "big deal", it's about taking care of the small things and giving your 100% in improving them. This means, putting extra effort and brains into something you started. For example, if you made a goal of getting healthier, you could put in some extra effort to work on it by adding a target. 

Let's try to understand the different perspectives of beginning from the start: 

What are beginnings? 

Beginnings as vocalised in local languages are the start or onset of a new chapter. But if we think broadly, beginnings are about taking the extra effort to work an extra mile for something you might have started earlier too. Its meaning is not just restricted to the evolution of start, but it also transcends to giving yourself a push after a long break. 

For example, let's take spirituality. Most of our parents have told us the meaning and importance of spirituality in our childhood, provided only 60% of us actually retain and follow it through our lives. But when you grow old and experienced, there is a point when you regain that belief and fall back to it. This might come in twenty or thirty years or might just be there in your head for a long. Would you consider this a beginning? 

For me yes! Anything big or important that I am learning again for the second, third, or even the millionth time is a beginning for me. Hence, instead of making a fresh list of resolutions, I decided to pick up things that I had left incomplete and work on them first. And trust me, acting on things is far better than creating new things and working on them. 

@2023 Recap

2023 like any other year, was quite electrifying. I learned, grew, and most importantly picked myself back up. From the slightest of things to shifting to a new city, 2023 was not short of a storm for me. I definitely made new acquaintances, left a few people behind, and held onto a few who helped me grow. Whether it be taking an extra turn, or just working on the same thing, I learned many new things and invested in myself. (That's the best investment I could make)

More than anything, 2023 opened many new horizons for me and gave me the beginnings to work on for the next season of life. I understood that making a big deal out of things is not something I want to do and hence, it's better to just work on something existing and excel in that first. 

The new perspectives and new changes helped me see life from a vision I would not have explored living in my small zone. Hence some of my key learnings this year were: 

1. Life is simple. Live it simple. 
2. Invest in what makes you satisfied and not happy. 
3. Give yourself a chance to grow before judging. 
4. Keep learning no matter what!
5. People can be good too. 
6. Be present! 

What were your key learnings? Share with me in the comments.

And if you liked this blog don't forget to follow and ping me at poorvik35@gmail.com 

Until the next blog, make sure to mark your beginning and start acting on it! 

New beginnings?

Every new start comes with an incomplete ending...

We all love new beginnings, but how many of us put an end to the endings?

Life lately has been about responsibilities, running away from those responsibilities, and the desire to fulfill those responsibilities. Going out, following a schedule in the loop, getting back home, and still getting no time to be back home with yourself. 

Things change drastically when you grow up, but no one ever told you they would change so fast. How five months can turn into a bundle of disgust and how two days can be the most longing period for you. But why does every happy period come to an end and a period of "loneliness" is like a 2-hour Salman Khan movie.

What are incomplete endings?

Poorvi's urban dictionary describes incomplete endings as lies and commitments which have to come out of the "everything is good" shell and forcefully come to an end. 

It is so silly to call something incomplete and an ending. Endings are meant to collide and turn into a "fruitful product". But what about the forceful endings you do, which are still an incomplete pathway for you, but you have to do it for the sake of doing it.

I did not understand the concept of incomplete endings, before kick-starting my new year. The moment I had to plan out my year (which seems extremely foolish to plan your future), I knew it was time to bid goodbyes to things and to people who are just too incomplete in my life. Yes it seems difficult, yes you will cry, and yes you will regret it, but these endings are important to what we call, "MOVING ON" in life. 

So are these endings important? 

Certainly yes! You need to get yourself out of the thought that things will be better if you really want to do something for yourself. When you see those, "Disappear from social media and build your lives" posts, have faith in them. 

Sometimes all you have to do is get out of certain places to get into a better place for yourself. This will be tough at first but after months or years, you will feel good, and trust me YOU WILL. 

This new year instead of making new promises and new commitments make sure you are over with the incompleteness you have. And that will truly be your NEW YEAR. 

I wish you all a very HAPPY NEW YEAR ❤. 

Make a comment and like the post if you enjoyed this lil motivation <3

And will see you all again, probably before the next year!

The Tragic Book: A Little Life

Life is a pathway of happiness, struggles, and sadness which combines under the umbrella of tragedies. These tragedies can be happy or can be enough to ruin our lives. But who decides the impact of these tragedies? Us. We play the most important role in deciding the impact of happenings in our lives. 

These outcomes are what makes us happy or sad and not tragedies. This is what this book enfolds into, the impact of tragedies on the lives of four college students and their inter-dependence.  

The aim to get a perfect life has overshadowed the importance of experiencing tragedies in our lives. And this is where the lives we live becomes so little and shallow. This book highlights all those moments of life which might be futile but are actually what make our lives different from the rest of us.

Before reading further, I would like to ask you one question, what will be your reaction when your sweet lemonade starts tasting sour? Will you cherish it like something new, or will you throw it away?

The Plot

This book is based on the lives of four friends Jude, Willem, Malcolm, and JB who are interlinked to each other through our main character Jude. Each of these characters has been woven with pain, agony, tragedies, and calmness by Hanya Yanagihara. 

Unexpected turns and tails are what make this book more realistic and raw. Besides, all the traits of being sad, this book also talks about friendship, love, nature, philosophy, and intuitiveness in the most beautiful way. 

The boldness to talk about atrocities, suicides, and deaths is so compelling that I did not want to leave this book. What is the best part, is that every tragedy came with a realistic solution to it.

For example, telling a person with a panic attack to relax is not realistic but counting 3,2, 1 with them, or doing a similar exercise is.

The four friends are supportive of each other and know when to take a step back and let the other person breathe. These characteristics of the secondary characters like Andy and Harold will make you forget about happiness and cherish sadness with a new perspective.

Personal Views

"A Little Life" has been one of the best books I have read so far. The number of atrocities and tragedies this book covered somehow felt comforting to me. Being scared by the number of pages of this book, I somehow felt that there were times when the plot went extremely slow and times when it accelerated to the next level.

Besides being too hyped up for crying throughout, I didn't shed a tear maybe because of the predictability I had in my mind.

This book can be a bit confusing if you leave it on hold. So, one extra tip would be to read it from the start to the end. And yes, please go through the trigger warnings before you step into the world of these characters. 

According to me, everyone should once read this book, as it comes with an infinite amount of teachings which are important in life. And for the question I asked you, read the book to know your answer. 

For now, I will leave you with the curiosity to read this book.

And will be back again with another blog <3

Share your views in the comment section, or write to me at @poorvik35@gmail.com

Are we Co-Dependent On Others?

Co-dependency is described as a state of mental, physical, or spiritual reliance on others. We, as fellow humans, are taught the importance of dependence on each other. But somehow, amongst all that dependence we fail to differentiate when we need to detach and become independent.

The most common and over-used example of co-dependence is between a couple. When you are in a relationship, marking out boundaries and sticking to them can become difficult. This results in forming a very thin layer of co-dependence on each other which later glorifies to become a wall. The emergence of this wall is only seen when we start to drift apart. And then, breaking out of this wall can get extremely difficult.

This can be regarded as an art where the two colours merge to become one and it then gets practically impossible to differentiate that colour.

But is it possible to have co-dependence on many people? This question struck me last night when I was thinking about how co-dependent I am on others for my happiness. Having someone to talk to at the end of the day is different, but being stuck with the thought to have that person always is not. This is where I realized, that the “Toxicity” has flown up my veins.

This picture defines what co-dependence looks like for me. 

You share a branch of your life with everyone with hopes to get something in return. But do we get all those shared branches? Or do we just end up losing a part of our own tree? 

Reasons for Co-Dependence

There are multiple reasons which constituted me being like this. The sudden emergence of offline classes constituted me meeting a lot of people every day. This included being validated by them for being funny, attentive, or jolly. And these compliments soon became too habitual for me that not getting any of these was enough to make me sad.

The second and the most important attribute of this is FOMO. You meet couples and people with interesting life stories. Then to make yourself “Active”, you start sharing your life. This also means exaggerating parts of it to fit with others. Yes, this is also “Toxic”.

This then results in you making new friends and meeting new people. And again, a circulatory habit of this results in you being dependent on those new people. This is how co-dependence kills you within.

Am I Co-Dependent?

The thought of co-dependency was killing me from within until I realized how important it is for me to get validated. The reason as to why I am getting these thoughts gave me a solution itself.

Yes, we are co-dependent on each other, but to some extent, we don’t have control over it. You might be co-dependent on your mother for food or your friend for assignments. But legalizing this co-dependence and taking it on a large scale with people you have just met, is wrong.

To make the amends, start by figuring out “Why” this is happening. And trust me the process, will ultimately lead you to a solution.

And for the bright part, I am co-dependent on skies and sunsets for making me happy :)

Write to me about your story at @poorvik35@gmail.com

Share your thoughts in the comment section and follow for more such blogs <3

 

The Saga Continues

Yadyatkarma karomi tattadakhilam shambho tavaaraadhanam

My Lord Shambo, My Lord Shiva, every act of mine is a prayer of your honour

Which is the most powerful book you have ever read? For me, it is The Oath Of Vayuputras. Vayuputra corresponds to the meaning "the children of wind". Vayuputras were a secret group of followers which were left by Lord Rudra. The book emerges from the continuation of the first two parts and adds more mystery, suspense, and honour to the life of Lord Shiva.

Evil is not a demon.  

It works its destruction close to us, with us, within us. 

This book will make you contemplate, force your brains to wound about and will make you experience a plethora of emotions. The best part is that the story of Lord Shiva and Sati is woven in the most beautiful and respectful manner in this book. As quoted in my last part, if you are new to mythological thrillers then this is the correct book for you!

What is the task unfinished?

The book will reveal affairs that have been hidden into the treasure for a long. As Lord Shiva continues his journey to become what he is meant to be, he explores the path that leads to doing things for the greater good. This book will give you proof that there is evil to everything good. The first half of the book is based on revelations, but the second half is what will portray emotions to the utmost level. The final book of the Shiva Trilogy will reverse the whole story and give you the most tragic ending. 

What if we say that the Somras was evil the whole time? The deformation of the Nagas was a result of the Somras. Shiva will realise that all this time what seemed to be right for him was actually wrong. The whole empire will turn its back towards Shiva and fight to win the war. But Shiva who knows the greater good will try to sign a peace treaty. The book will talk about the issues that are still prevalent and have been deteriorating mother nature. This is the time when you will experience the power of Neelkanth and the rage of Shiva.

Death in the course of performing one's duty is better than engaging in another's path, for that is truly dangerous!

The relationship between Shiva and Sati will also go a huge rollercoaster. The two will experience the pain of separation. Their love story will make you cry and fall in love with what love and respect actually mean. The rage of separation will make Shiva do things he never wanted, leading to the destruction of the whole city. The good created earlier by Lord Shiva will lead to the evil that will destruct his life. 

However, the calmness you expect at the end of a book will be achieved. Shiva will retire to his den and Sati will always be remembered as Goddess Shakti. 

Too much of a spoiler? Trust me it is not, you HAVE to read this book to experience war, rage, love, separation, and content. 

My Final Reviews About The Series

The Shiva Trilogy has been a great outlet for me to explore the field of mythological writing. The thrill and the mystery you experience here are unmatchable. This series has taught me life lessons about how there is a setback in even the most perfect things. I adore the relationships and how beautifully they have been engraved through the chapters. The first part will intrigue you to read the second part, and soon as you think that everything will be fine, the third part will open even bigger doors for you to explore. 

From the perspective of a naive in reading mythological books, this series was a huge hit for me. And a special mention to the first and the third parts which are a rollercoaster of emotions and mysteries. So, if you are planning to read something new, then this is the series for you!

Share your reviews, experiences and recommendations in the comment section below.

Write to me at 📧poorvik35@gmail.com

Thank you for reading <3

 

Dilli Meri Jaan?

The capital of India, aka, Dillwalo ki Dilli or my birthplace is not just a U.T. but an emotion. From the street vendors to the lavish late-night parties, Delhi manages to fit the emotions and feeling of every person. I have experienced Delhi from the eyes of a party animal, from a kid seeking escape, and from a teen looking for peace. 

From different eyes to the nakabs, you can observe every emotion through the streets of Delhi. From Dear Donna to Jama Masjid, every festival is celebrated in the most prevalent way in Delhi. Whether it be the momos in East Delhi, the Chaap in West Delhi, the Chai from North, or the Shopping Sprees from South, this place can manage to cover every diversity. But sometimes the sawal, that whether I love Delhi or to gets stuck in my mind. 

Why Not Delhi?

Well, this might be an offensive question, but we all at some point think of leaving Delhi and shifting to some other state or country. Delhi is one of the most unsafe places for people in India. The traffic fights, rape, theft, poor air index makes Delhi unsafe. We hear cases of protests, huger, no light, water, kidnapping, murders every day. 

Being a girl, it becomes too unsafe for me to sometimes step out of my house without the thought of me being kidnapped by anyone. Thus, there is a natural tendency for parents to stop you from going out at night. Delhi might look like one of the most happening places in Delhi, but a closer look gives you why this should not be the place to stay. But this makes me think of a possible answer to the question, of why I still live in Delhi, why I still want to explore every part of Delhi?

Why Delhi is Still My Jaan?

The answer to this is simply because I love what this place gives me. From the metros to the street food, Delhi has every reason to hold my heart. Delhi has a place to offer me when I am sad, and a place to let be in my thoughts when I want peace. Delhi can be daunting to some people, but every time I step out of my house, I go with the thought of meeting a new person and interacting with their heart. The rich heritage and the sunsets make my heart melt. 

My mom still tells me about the time when I was so devastated about not seeing a Santa Claus, and they took me to every possible place just to make me see a Santa. In the end, the desire to see a Santa was fulfilled at a petrol station. This is why I love Delhi. The small moments and memories this place offers me cannot be matched to anything.

In cabs, autos, or metros you get to meet the most random people who have the best stories to share with you. The rickshaw bhaiyas are too helpful and can make your ay ten times better with the  90s music remix. The metros are not just a place of chaos but also a place with different types of people. You could spot an old couple helping each other get a metro, a slump trying to catch the metro, or a boy reading book. Every interaction I have done with a stranger has been so pleasing that it makes my heart melt.

From  Ambience mall to Sarojini Nagar very Gaali in Delhi has a different story to offer you! Can't decide if I love or hate Delhi, but I am just too content to be at a place that can understand my every emotion.

For more such stories, subscribe to this blog!

Thank you for reading, write to me at @poorvik35@gmail.com

With love Dilliwali <3

Are Expectations Always Predictable?

 Prediction leads to expectations

Humans the being that can never stop expecting or predicting. Predictions of what will happen next often lead to tieing up expectations. Whether you believe it or not, we humans in some way or the other hold expectations even from the tiniest of things. It may be for a relationship to grow, a deal to get finalized, or even a dinner date.

Expectations

In my years of growing up, I have always felt the need to expect things from others. Whether it be with my parents taking me out or me getting maximum marks in school. But all those things made me more weak and vulnerable. The thought of my expectations not getting fulfilled was horrifying enough. And if those "Expectations" were not fulfilled I would make myself sad.

(By making myself sad, I mean literally giving me reasons to be sad over mere expectations that were not even going to be completed)

The idea of the expectations failing has made me horrified to a level that I fear expecting things from others. The expectations often lead to lack of acceptance. Let's take an example; I expected that a friend to always stay by my side. But the minute I knew the friend was going to leave me, I couldn't accept that fact. 

For me, expectations have also led to me, not respecting the people with love and care who are truly making me be at my best. 

Predictions

Following up, predictions are the judgments of how a scenario will occur. We often predict things in a way that we don't even realize what we are actually doing. Predicting how a scene or the flow of life raises the bar of expecting from that particular scene. And as the cycle of expectations works, failure leads to ignorance and denial.

Denying facts after they have failed makes it difficult for you to be at a place where you want to be happy and satisfied. For example; Recently, I predicted how the next few months of my life would be, but the tiniest reality check made me go the path of denial and anxiousness.

Is it Always Easier to Predict?

Yes, it is easier to predict. But, what we fail to understand is that the prediction can go different paths. A wrong path can make you sad, depressed, anxious, and shocked. 

"Life Is Not Predictable"

We all have heard this. But, how many of us truly believe in it? We often build a dam from predictions

to expectations and the mere pressure of reality gets it all broken. It is necessary that we always keep in mind, the importance of not expecting things and realize how important it is to live in the present and not in some fantasy world. 

At last, I would like to say that it is easier to stay happy by expecting and predicting but it is important to live in the reality.

Thank you, for reading an actual brain dump <3

Share your experience with predictions and expectations in the comment section below.

Also, write to me at poorvik35@gmail.com :D

                                                        All of us are gods.

                                                        Har Har Mahadev! 

Every human has a different relationship with God. This relationship might be of love, hatred or disappointment but what we all know is that every relation is special in itself. Believing or not believing in existence of god is a personal choice but somewhere we all have the faith that someone's always there to take care of us. 

I personally have a bitter sweet relationship with my belief in god. But, Shiva Trilogy taught me how every human can be an equivalent of god by just being the helping hand in someone's life. Shiva Trilogy was my first ever mythological thriller. I started reading it in the lockdown after a friend's recommendation. Since, that day I have fallen in love with every quote and every line of this book.

Shiva Trilogy

Shiva Trilogy is divided into three parts. The book is a mystery thriller based fiction that incorporates various happenings in the life of Lord Shiva in a fiction and beautiful way. Shiva Trilogy is a beautiful compilation of stories talking about the rise of Lord Shiva into a God from a young boy. The book covers the generosity of Lord Shiva that made him rise to the power.

You will fall in love with the terms, quotes and every line of these books. The build up of mystery is the cherry on top. Every book at the end, leaves you at a point where you just want to read the next one ASAP. (So, get yourself the next read beforehand)

The book has the supreme power to make you smile, laugh, shed tears and get struck on it for hours. I took the first book as an experimental read but the wide genres and interlinking of facts made me crave for more. The plus point is that you will also learn more about Hindu religion and get intrigued to read more about it.

The Immortals of Meluha

"Good and Evil are two sides of the same coin."

Being the first part of the book, the whole success of the book depends on how well the first part has been woven. And writer Amish has made it pretty evident from the first part itself that the next parts will be a bang.

The Immortals of Meluha is primarily based on the early life of Lord Shiva. It talks about his tribe giving a beautiful description about his land, The Himalayas. The book will also hint that Shiva is not just a common man in the tribe but a holy human who will soon rule the world. This first part will show how the war between the Meluhans and the Chandravanshis and how they are linked to the Nagas.

The book will also talk about Shiva's encounter with Sati who is an untouchable. The spark between the two is woven beautifully through the book. Shiva and Sati's love chemistry will go the higher notch through the progress of the book. This first book is the best opening to make you excited to read more.

The Secret of The Nagas

"Good we create leads to evil that destroy us"

The second part of Shiva Trilogy will unveil many secrets of the royal families. The Nagas that are considered as the enemies will soon turn into a helping hand. The plot will get completely reversed after the kidnapping of Sati. Shiva's hunger for revenge will make him reach the game of Nagas where he will explore more secrets.

 This part of the book will focus on the mysteries that goes behind the curtain. It will also show the emergence of enmity against Lord Shiva. This book will highlight Sati and Shiva's journey on the path of truth, a journey that will open up new foreseeing for everyone.

The review for the last part of Shiva Trilogy will be released soon with some special additions, lessons and interpretations. Stay tuned for more<3

Thankyou for reading and making my day xD

Connect with me at @poorvik35@gmail.com

KASOL

 Hey I am back!

First of all I am extremely sorry for being too inconsistent but guys there's a good news...

I went on my FIRST ever friends trip. Yes, you heard that right. I am soo happy and I have soo much to share about the trip but keeping in mind my excitement let's keep this blog all about the delicious FOOD I had in Kasol, Himachal Pradesh.

How I convinced my parents?

So, I might sound like an influencer saying this that I get many questions like this but addressing this subject I wanna say that I have the best parents. My dad was totally okay with me going and becoming independent travelling without them. My mom has always been someone who has motivated me to go out with friends and enjoy the best moments of my life. I am totally thankful to them So, yeah it was Kinda easy.

D-DAY

The day before we left for Kasol I had a hell lot of emotions going through my mind. Mainly consisting of me overthinking about whether everything will be fine, but all thanks to me dear friends who took care of me and made it a point to checklist everything at the last moment.

So, as soon as we sat in the car there was this need for our driver to have Chai at Sukhdev ka Dhaba(Delhi people will relate.) There we had literally the best chai. <3

Maggie OP

Pahado pe gaye or maggie nahi khai ,

to kya pahado pe gaye

As I mentioned Pahado ki maggie is an emotion. One can have Maggie, hakka noodles or any noodles but the taste of that hot spicy maggie near the riverside along with you friends and lots of chats, with hair breezing over your face cannot be matched. 

Yes, I know the maggie is overprized but the taste and the feeling is worth all the money and effort. We all were happy to get a good plate of maggie and a hot chocolate in the chilly weather. The taste of the maggie enjoyed near the riverside is something I miss till date.

"Yaar MOMOS to khilado"

Yes guys, there's this urge for everyone to include momos in the hill food itinerary. Although, I still prefer Delhi momos over anywhere else but the taste of anything hot in the cold weather is like sharbat to a thirsty throat. Momos were 'OK' to be honest but as my friends say, "It's all about the vibe guys."

Adorable bakeries

Let me warn you if you are something who love desserts like me, you will fall in love with this place. The little bakeries offering you chocolate balls, baked cheesecakes, croissants, tarts and mouth-watering chocolate cakes is the highlight of any meal. 

We had a baked cheesecake and a chocolate cake. Personally, I love them, they were fresh from the oven, soft and super delicious. So, the next time you visit a hill station definitely stop at a bakery and try the food.

Hyped things are not always bad

Sticking to the title, I need to say the cafes we went in for food were super amazing. Whether it be the ambience, food or the vibe everything was just on point in regards with the time.

1. MoonDance Restaurant and Bar

Vibe: 10/10

Food: 8/10

We went here at night and the whole place was lit with candles. The ambience was soft and perfect for dinner. We tried some Israeli food here, it was good. The food for me was not great but with the ambience and the quick services it was perfect.

2. Panjtara

Vibe: 10/10

Food: 9.5/10

We went here after a stroll in the Kasol market. We didn't try much here since we already had food in our hotel. We tried pizza here and it was totally worth the price. The cherry on top was the live music that made the whole place lively. Trust me I didn't want to leave the place after all the vibe the singer had created.

Also, a special mention to our AirBnb staff who cooked us the most delicious chicken and paneer. Whenever we felt like eating home cooked roti-sabji we ended up coming back to our place.

The food in Kasol was higher than our expectations and maybe that is something that kept us energetic throughout the trip.

For video and pictures search me up through my Instagram (poorvi.kapoor)

Also, Don't forget to write me up about your favourite Pahadon ki meals in the comment section.

For more chats and gossips, connect with me at poorvik35@gmail.com

Thankyou for reading. Sending hugs <3

The Book Thief Or More?

 "I am Haunted by Humans"

-Death.

The saying at the start would give you a great idea of what "The Book Thief" will talk about. The Book Thief is a beautiful story covering the life of a small girl; her hardships and her infinite love for reading books. The book is a Novel Historian fiction that revolves around the lives of people during the Nazi- German war.

Why this book?

I am someone who hated Social Studies throughout her life and reading a historical referenced book was somewhat really weird for me. The hype of the book made me want to read it. Trust me I won't lie I did get bored while reading this, but sooner or later I developed a sense of bond with the book.

The book covers a variety of genres including political, fiction, romance and mystery. The fact that the book is narrated by DEATH itself, symbolizes to the infinite deaths that are caused by wars. The book talks about the life of Liesel and her rough back story.

Liesel is left by her own birth mother to foster parents. She faced tragedies from the very start of her life. At first, she finds it hard to adjust at her new house, but with time she gets acquainted with the place and her family members. She starts reading and stealing books from different people but mostly from the Mayor's wife.

Liesel meets a lot of people who gradually form a different character:

• Hans Huberman who is Liesel's foster father teaches her to real and play. He also plays an accordion.
• Rudy who is Liesel's lover, falls for her innocence and beauty. Gradually the two fall in love.
• Max who is a Jewish man lived in their basement hidden from the Nazis. 

What I loved about the book?

The book is a piece of art that has been woven beautifully besides the tragedies that takes place in the book. Liesel's relationships with different characters have been portrayed really well. Rudy and Liesel's love story elevates when they both start falling in love with each other. The old love school romance is something that would make you ship them together. The small gestures and the firsts are the highlight of their love story.

Liesel develops a homely relation with Jewish man Max. Liesel shows him her manuscripts and little book entries. The illustrations  of the manuscripts in the book makes the book adorable. The book is brutal but will make you fall in love with each and every character. The book however ends on a tragic note(READ IT TO KNOW).

NOTE: Most of the things I have already covered before but being a fast reader the book might be a little bit boring at the start. But the book will start producing it's effect on you over time and you will get hooked up. The beautiful illustrations and the plot gets an extra star from me. 

If you have read the book or plan to read it, do let me know in the comments below :)

Also write to me @poorvik35@gmail.com for book recommendations.

Thankyou for reading. You made my day. <3